Wooing Hermione Granger
by Flying Mandrakes
Summary: Fred decides to try to win Hermione over, however he has a bit more trouble than he expected. Originally published on AoW. Fremione! Fluff!
1. The Decision to Woo

George was rather intrigued by his brothers inattentive face, and faux attentive voice. At first, he barely noticed because he was explaining a theory about a new product and interpreted Fred's silence as awe. After awhile, though, the silence became worrisome. George finally lifted his eyes from the notebook and saw how distracted Fred truly was. He was nodding and grunting in agreement, showing only half interest in their conversation. The rest of his attention was directed at the back of a girl sitting at a private corner of the common room. George had stopped talking, but Fred's eyebrows only furrowed in concentration even more fiercely, as if trying to solve a puzzle with missing pieces.

"Fred?" George tested.

"Its a brilliant idea, George, and we should began as soon as we can," Fred replied, refraining from moving his head back to his brothers line of sight.

"I suppose you also enjoyed my suggestion of using you as the first product tester, without my assistance?" George teased.

"Of course! Anything for the shop."

George finally gave in to a fit of laughter, forcing him to lean forward as the jollity of the occasion hit him with full force. At least, he finally had his attention.

"You'd seriously enjoy testing a mind-swapping charm with someone other than me?" George taunted.

"Mind swapping? Blimey, how would we come up with such a thing!" Fred declared.

"If you were listening, then you would know," George scolded.

Fred's neck reddened and he looked away slightly at being discovered. He managed to fool Lee and his teammates into thinking they had his attention, but his brother must be a different case. He didn't let an embarrassed smile touch his lips until George laughed once more.

"I'm just messing with you, Fred. I was only discussing an object-swapping charm. Simply testing to see if you were listening."

"Sorry, I got a little distracted. Would you like to run that idea by me again?" Fred asked apologetically, still red in the face.

George raised two fingers from each hand in the air and enunciated Fred's "little" in air quotations. Rolling his eyes, Fred let out a fake yawn and gathered his books to leave.

"Where are you going?" George grabbed Fred's books and held them hostage in his arms. "I'd like to see which girl was keeping my brothers priorities out of order."

"Girl?" He quickly asked, astonishment tainting his voice. He managed to gather himself and waved off the silly idea. "Nothing of that sort, lad. I simply noticed my vision was blurring from exhaustion, and wanted to see if I could fix it," he smoothly said, attempting to avoid his brothers peering eyes.

"And could you?"

"Could I what?" He glanced up in confusion. George raised an eyebrow, until Fred's mouth formed an 'O' in realization.

"Come on then," George finally said, gathering the rest of the books. "Off to bed we go."

Halfway up to their dorms, he glanced back down at the common room to confirm a suspicion. Unsurprisingly, he was greeted with the sight of a messy brunette flipping through a large tome while simultaneously scrawling on a piece of parchment. He smirked at the lack of surprise washing over him.

* * *

The boys were in bed, prolonging their curfew as much as they could, until Fred and George were the last ones with eyes open for a mindless task. George was concentrating on the distinct ripples in his curtains, realizing how much he'd mess the creases once he leaves. Fred was flipping through a book, somewhat mindlessly and attentive at once. He'd flip the same pages over and over, until moving on and staring at a page a little while before continuing his flipping routine. George somehow found the rippling sounds to be oddly comforting and dared to let it drift him to sleep, until a decision came to him. Turning on his side to face his brother, he tossed a ball of paper form his night stand at him, hitting Fred in the face. George stifled a small chuckle.

Fred closed his book and grabbed the ball. "I'm sorry, brother, but was I keeping you up?" He asked sarcastically.

"You're always keeping me up," George said before catching the ball Fred threw back. "I just thought I should let you know that your girl was doing the same thing downstairs."

Fred couldn't deny that his stomach dropped so far down, the house elves probably wouldn't have been able to catch it. He turned fully on his side, attempting to face George. Luckily, he held up his hand to save his brother from embarrassment.

"I'm not sure why you haven't told me," he began. "Especially considering how obvious you've been." Fred's eyes widened at Georges comment. "At least to your twin brother you are."

"Perhaps because this isn't like your date with Angelina, or any other girl who unfortunately had to deal with the less handsomer twin. Perhaps you're still conflicted?" George asked. He decided to tread carefully. Usually, there would be no safety precautions in these discussions. Usually Fred would have been straight with him by now. Then again, this isn't the usual situation.

"Actually, I am not," Fred said slightly above a whisper before planting himself back on his back. "Sorry I didn't tell you beforehand. I was pretty embarrassed at first, then I realized there's no way out. It is nice to realize I still have shame though." George laughed, easing Fred back into comfort.

"Don't worry about it," he said as he lied onto his back again. "If I was in love with the same prefect that nags at our testing methods, I'd probably be embarrassed too. Then again, you were into her long before the nagging, right?"

Fred nodded, before realizing his brother couldn't see him. "We spent a lot of time with each other at Grimmauld Place."

"Figures," George paused. "Mum would be proud her cleaning schedule will bring her a new Weasley." Before laughing, he felt the force of a pillow being thrown at his face.

"Anyways," George began. "When I said conflicted, I didn't mean your feelings. I meant about her best friend."

"Her best friend? I thought we loved Harry," Fred smiled, hoping to dodge the question. That was, until George threw his own pillow at him. With a deep sigh, Fred began. "I am, actually. I know Ron has his own issues when it comes to expressing his feelings, and even if there aren't any, he's one of the last people I would care to put in an uncomfortable position. I don't want to step on his toes no matter the situation, because I think he may have a chance with her if he just paid more attention. Besides, I doubt she's looking my way more than his. Then again, I can't avoid this forever, now can I? So yes, I am conflicted." Fred suddenly felt a lightweight breeze wash over him, once he finally was able to admit these things.

"Don't be," George piped. Fred was taken aback by his brothers easy suggestion. "Apparently, I am the only sibling who picks up on things, so let me rest you assured. Don't be conflicted. Ron would only be a temporary, but weak barrier once you act on your feelings," George proudly stated. "Besides, she's a hard book to read. So don't gamble on a false assumption."

Fred hesitated in his bed, slightly uncomfortable by Georges straightforwardness. Somehow, he picked up on this. "Trust me," George asserted. Finally, Fred nodded, deciding a little hope would not hurt.

"Now that that's settled, when are you going to ask her out for a butterbeer? Or a walk down Hogsmeade? You could even just offer to carry her books, to start off simple. Actually, I'd suggest against that one. You might just break something," George said.

Fred laughed. "Actually, I won't be asking her to do any of that."

George raised an eyebrow, but Fred somehow heard his gesture. "You'll see. Right now, lets go to bed. I have a long day ahead of me."

Smiling, somewhat shyly, Fred closed his eyes and quickly snored into Georges pillow. Confusedly, George contemplated into Fred's pillow, wondering if his brother accidentally consumed a love potion.


	2. The Mysterious Ribbon

Hermione found herself wondering why she was the first to be at breakfast when she was the last to sleep. She also found herself studying the same works that kept her in the common room until an hour ago, this time over breakfast. Sighing, she buttered her toast, never leaving her eyes from the text. Not too long ago, she decided that lack of proper instruction will only force her to be her own teacher for the unavoidable O.W.L's. Independent study has become a new hobby that she will eventually succeed in making Ron and Harry take part in.

Hiding the book underneath her seat, she waved at the two groggy boys clumsily climbing her way.

"I see you two slept well," Hermione acknowledged, placing two pieces of toast onto their plates.

"I see you haven't," yawned Ron, gesturing to the book underneath her. "You really have no shame, do you?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You wouldn't either, if you actually cared about your education."

Before Ron could respond, Harry put up his hand. "Stop arguing, at least until we see why Hedwig has come." Surely enough, they heard a loud array of screeches entering the grand hall, gliding over students and dishes. Many faces gleamed at the arrival of letters, but Hedwig landed on Harry's water cup empty handed. He didn't bother to hide his disappointment.

"Don't fret," Hermione said. "If it's important, then the Order will deliver the news right away."

"I don't know why you're disappointed, mate," Ron said through a mouthful of eggs and toast. "Unless you're the one who tied a ribbon to your owl after a kiss goodnight." They glanced down and true to his word, a long, magenta ribbon was elegantly tied to Hedwig's leg. Harry's eyes popped in excitement at this new discovery.

"Distract her, and I'll untie it," Harry declared. Ron held up a piece of toast, clearly mocking Hedwig more than baiting her. However, she still turned his way.

"Allow us, Mr. Potter," came a jester voice from behind.

"No offense, but this looks like work for delicate hands." Ron rolled his eyes as one of his twin brothers leaned forward and began to gently unravel the ribbon. Hermione, too, looked like she wanted to say something but didn't want a morning parley.

"Have something to say, perfect prefect?" The boy taunted.

Flushing, Hermione glared at him. "Nothing at all," she said through gritted teeth.

"Here you are then."

"Thanks, but er-who am I thanking?" Harry cautiously asked.

The twins shared a mischievous look and began to speak until Hermione interrupted. "You'll be thanking Fred, I believe," she said behind her newly-recovered book.

Fred leaned forward, ignoring his brothers expressions as he lowered her book onto the table. "How can you be certain of that, Miss. Granger?"

Hermione was caught off guard, and avoided his eyes to disguise her shock. She thought she could hear him smirk. "I'm highly perceptive, Weasley, I thought that was obvious," she finally said.

Fred was about to retort something until Harry cut him off. "There's something odd about this ribbon," he said. "There is a note, but I can't read it. The words are weirdly small for a ribbon this size."

"Then peer closer, you blind bat," Ron scolded, letting his morning mood get the better of him.

"That's our cue then," George suggested. "Let's join Lee and the girls, Fred." They walked away from the mysterious ribbon, George patting Freds back. A stunt that caught Hermiones attention.

"That was odd," she murmured, catching no ones attention.

"I can read it better now," Harry said, praying for a note from Sirius. "I, the mysterious and dashing ribbon, have sensed the need of a shower from you, whose nasty tactic of not minding your own business has made you rotten and kept me from my proper owner," he read. He glanced at his friends with a confused expression, until a large sprout of water erupted from the ribbon, splashing Harry's face. The ribbon then gracefully left his hands and swayed into the air, attracting more eyes.

Around Harry, he could hear noisy laughter and his name being called. He removed his glasses to dry them on his sleeve and accepted a napkin from a nearby Gryffindor. He looked up to find his friends fighting smiles.

"Obviously, it's a love letter from one of your many admirers," Ron said sarcastically.

Hermione couldn't help but wonder about this suggestive action. She placed her wand onto the table before she closed the distance between her and the flying fabric. "Rather complicated magic for a silly, morning prank, isn't it?" She asked.

At the sound of Hermione's voice, the ribbon stiffened in the air and glided towards her causing her to lift her wand at the ready. It relaxed in her vicinity, and almost appeared to wave at her. Confused, she slowly waved her hand back.

"Harry," she whispered. Glancing around, she noticed they still had the attention of a few students. A worried Cho, a smirking Seamus, a curious Luna, a shocked George, and remarkably, an inattentive Fred. "Did the ribbon say proper owner?" Harry nodded, still drying his face.

She put down her wand, causing Ron to lift his. Lifting her free hand once more, Hermione cautiously touched the silky edge of the mysterious ribbon. Almost rapidly, it coiled itself around the entirety of her hand until it was firmly fastened from her fingertips to her wrist. Ron slapped Harry's attention, and they both soon had their wands pointed at the ribbon, not sure of what to do.

Harry had just decided to retrieve Mcgonagall, when Hermione laughed a tiny, nervous chipper. Fred looked up when she did, refusing to remain inattentive at this point.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked.

"It tickles," she murmured.

Suddenly, the ribbon began to uncoil at a rapid pace until it bandaged itself around the palm of her hand, tightening itself to her skin. After a brief pause, Hermione felt small vibrations poking her hand. She remained motionless, fearful of its next move. Finally, the whole ribbon spontaneously combusted into a yellow splash of light, relieving her of any discomfort, leaving its remnants inside her palm. Instead of a coiled ribbon, she found herself holding a thin bouquet of long daisies, pulled together by a magenta ribbon. The stems were elongating the more she stared in wonderment at the flowers. They grew until the petals also began to transfigure into white, innocent roses, dethorned of any bad humor. The sheer volume of the bouquet increased by the new testament of flowers. The ribbon itself was wrapped around the stems in a looser tie than before, somehow waving back at Hermione.

Harry, Ron and Hermione stared wide-eyed at her hand, unsure of their next step.

"Well," Harry dared to say through a shocked voice. "I think we found it's proper owner."

"It's bloody alive," Ron declared.

If anybody had bothered to look the opposite direction, they would have noticed a nervous smile hidden behind a smirking face. They probably would have also noticed that Fred was shocked by the embarrassment he felt. However, nobody paid him any attention. Not even his twin brother.


	3. A Bouquet of Eight

Hermione, Ron and Harry decided to spend their morning under a large tree by the lake. It was the same morning as the ribbon incident, and thus Ron and Harry were eyeing the bouquet by Hermione's legs both curiously, and suspiciously.

After a long while of contemplation, Harry finally spoke. "Ron, I think your first theory was right." He shot Harry a confused expression. "You said it was from a secret admirer, remember?"

"I also said it was a love letter," Ron added, rolling his eyes. "Who would write you a love letter?"

"Not for me, Ron. For Hermione," he stated.

Meanwhile, Hermione was practicing a charm and paying the outside world no attention. The roses dangled at the edge of her knees poking at both Ron's and her robes. However, she barely noticed them unlike Ron and Harry. "Hermione, aren't you at least curious about what Harry is saying? Or about the roses in general?" Ron asked.

She shook her head. "It's probably some silly joke like the ones I got last year."

Ron and Harry exchanged uncertain looks. They knew Hermione was no longer paying penance for Rita Skeeters articles, however if she wasn't preoccupied then the worst must have passed. Yet, Harry still hoped it was affiliated with the Order in some way, and Ron was retracing Hermione's actions the last few months that may have caused her worthy of a magical bouquet.

Hermione looked up in time to catch Ron and Harry's lip biting countenances. She scoffed. "If only you two could think this hard with your homework," she said, putting down her wand. "If you really think it's something other than a silly prank then let's see it." Hermione reached out to grab the flowers but Ron caught her arm before she had the chance.

"It might do something awful to your hand again. Except, worse and violent," Ron declared. Hermione pulled her hand back and cast him an annoyed glare, her face drowning in disbelief, forcing Ron to submit. She grabbed the roses and waited.

Nothing happened.

"Maybe, you have to wave at the ribbon again?" Harry suggested. Rolling her eyes, Hermione gave a cynical wave. The ribbon remained motionless. Her pride smiled at Harry, who kept his thinking face on.

"Try tapping it," he said.

Reluctantly, she softly tapped the tip of the magenta coil before it began to loosen its grip on the roses, causing Hermione to recoil backward. The ribbon subtly fell looser and was silently touching her robes, but for some reason, Hermione felt excited. She tried to hide her smile, telling herself that she still had shame left and would not give in so easily.

"Harry," she began. "Didn't you read a note on it before?" Harry nodded.

"But it was just a joke. Taunting me, like when Snape tried to read the-"

"Marauders map?" Hermione suggested. "That's what I was thinking too. It only gave ridiculous remarks to Snape, who didn't have the password."

"He wasn't the proper owner, you mean?" Ron added, recalling the original note.

"Then it has to be from Remus or Sirius. Maybe they need you to do research in the library ,or something similar. Maybe they're hinting that they need the map but couldn't-"

"Harry, slow down," Hermione begged. "We don't know anything yet, so try not to jump to conclusions. You'll only get your hopes up."

"It's too obvious of a coincidence, Hermione."

"They're not the only one's who knows of the map. Fred and George do too, even Snape himself does."

"Okay, sure. But why would Snape want to give you flowers? Don't even let Fred or George be a suspect here," Ron added. Hermione shrugged, a small tinge of red creeping up her cheeks. However, she did want an answer. Who would want to send me flowers? She wondered.

"Snape is part of the order, too. Maybe Umbridge-"

"Okay, just stop!" Hermione scolded. "Both of you! It could be something, and it could be nothing. Stop getting your hopes up and remember that it was for me, obviously the cleverer of the three. We can't make assumptions when we haven't even confirmed our first, wild theory!" She boldly finished. Ron and Harry let out raspy breaths before sitting back with dismal faces and crossed arms. They shot their eyes downward in disappointment and shame. Hermione sighed a thank you and reminded herself that she has only a few years left with these two.

She placed the flowers atop her thighs and started to undo the loose knot. As soon as she started to untie the bow, the ribbon let out a soprano giggle that lasted until the task was finished. The trio glanced at each other before Ron said, "I guess it's your turn to tickle it."

Hermione held up the undone ribbon for the boys to see, but nothing happened. Groaning, Harry and Ron finally gave up and decided to head back to the castle but Hermione forced them to stay awhile longer. She was determined to outsmart a small, playful ribbon. She let out a deep breath and clasped the ribbon into her left palm. She began to wrap it around the entirety of her hand until the last of the length was tucked quietly into itself.

"Hermione, are you sure you should-"

"What if its a letter from the Order, Harry?" Hermione challenged.

So, they waited.

Ron soon raised an eyebrow when nothing happened, but Hermione paid him no attention. Suddenly, she realized the ribbon wasn't motionless. The deep, royal magenta was beginning to grow a sunny shade of stormy red. Hermione peered closer to make sure her mind wasn't playing tricks.

"It's differently changing," Harry said, realizing what she was doing. "But not all of it." True to his word, splotches of magenta remained unchanged until a number could be recognized.

"119?" Ron asked. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"The 1 in the middle is a slash mark. It says, one out of nine," she said.

"Oh."

"There's more," Harry said. Finally, the subtle color change had finished and a broad overtone of magenta was layering a fiery and pleasant shade of red. Hermione held up her palm to read the magenta lettering.

"1/9. Here are but clues to the truth behind my existence. Perhaps the brightest witch I may ever know can guess my name at this instance, but I hope she would save me the shame by reveling in this fantastic game. Sincerely, an honor," Hermione read.

"1-out-of-9? There's more?" Ron asked.

"Game? It's a game?" Harry disappointingly said.

"Who signs a note with 'honor'?" Hermione wondered aimlessly.

"The brightest witch I may ever know?" Ron repeated. "Blimey, Hermione. You have a lot to live up to," Ron said, rising no sound of humor from either of his friends.

"I think you were right, Ron," Harry said, helping Hermione to remove the ribbon from her hand. "I think this is all one big love letter." Ron and Hermione looked up, bewildered by his comment. Before he could justify his claim, the ribbon uncoiled itself from Hermione's palm and Harry's fingers and flew into the air. It made a taunting noise that Hermione swore was a raspberry if it only had a tongue and mouth, then spat a large amount of water at Harry.

"Forgot about that," Harry murmured, bending down to dry his face. The ribbon flew back into Hermiones hand.

"It said all the clues were here," she said, admiring the ribbons sleeping form. "But exactly what do we have?" She wondered.

"A bouquet white roses, and a ribbon," Ron suggested.

"Let me see the roses," she asked. She retrieved the roses and roamed her fingers around the soft tips before looking up once more.

"No. We have eight thornless white roses that were once daisies, and a moody, color-changing ribbon that really adores my hand," Hermione said. "I might actually enjoy this."

Ron and Harry looked at her then. "The ribbon is more than moody. It's an outright bully," Ron added. "What's the purpose behind eight roses anyways?"

"I have no idea. I thought there would be nine," Hermione said, slow to hide her disappointment.

"How can you possibly be enjoying this?" Harry asked in amazement.

Hermione loved puzzles. It was what saved her and Harry in their first year. She especially loved ones that she could solve. Looking at the clues, she knew she wasn't far from the answer once she had some ink and parchment. She decided to revel in the game, much like John Watson would do alongside Sherlock. She smiled at her inner muggle reference.

"What do you guys think?"

"I think it's a Gryffindor," Harry said.

"Well done, Harry. Only a brave fool would send something like this to the people raving about You-Know-Who," Ron said, proud of his understanding.

Harry shook his head. "No, Ron. The ribbon is red. Like Gryffindor," he said.

Hermione laughed. "That could be one interpretation."

"What do you think?" Ron asked. "It's your love letter anyways."

"I think I was right the first time. It's a joke and not a silly form of a love letter. A good amount of clues are here in this one delivery, and could easily lead us to the sender if we put our mind to it. Therefore, someone is looking for fun. Not a Hogsmeade date," she decided.

"If it can so easily lead us to the person, then why haven't you told us who you think it is?"

"Isn't it obvious?" She asked.

Harry and Ron shook their heads.

Hermione scoffed. "You two are daft, sometimes." She began to gather her books and delicately aligned the sleeping ribbon around her tie. "I'll leave the roses in your care, but we should head somewhere else. The sun is making me tired," she stated before walking away without checking to see if they were following her.

Ron and Harry glanced at each other for a short, anxious moment, before sighing in submission and gathering the white roses. Harry refused to touch them, tasking Ron to play the brave knight. Nothing happened.

"We're coming!" they shouted.

* * *

Can you connect the clues?


End file.
